Before I go to bed, I always take a minute to think the Lord for the day. No matter what kind of day it was, I am always thankful to have lived it and when I rise in the morning with my arms stretched to the ceiling, I thank him again. The reason for this is quite simple, inside my head there’s a person. Now, I’m not crazy and I’m far from it! But there’s a person inside my head that whispers awful things to me. It’s hard trying to live a positive life, when there is a raspy, cynical little voice gifting you doubt and sadness at every turn. I often fear that one day this voice might win and I’ll end up once again a scared distrustful little girl or worse. So, every night before bed I thank the Lord for the day. No matter what kind of day it was, I am always so thankful to have lived it.
I'm terrified. I haven't had a new job in years and the thought of starting over is literally tearing me apart. I'm nervous and full of fear, usually, I just jump right into any situation after a few moments of talking to myself. I'm just a ball of nerves and I hope I can get this job done without any worry or hiccups.
She stumbled into the doorway, blood dripping from her body and her eyes full of tears. Her face bruised and gashed with pieces of glass sticking out from her cheek and forehead, every breath she took felt like fire in her lungs and acid on her breath. "God," she whispered. Slowly, she made her way to the couch, every step more painful than the last. She settled on the plush cushion and grabbed the blanket draped over the side and placed it over her body. "Just a little rest," She said. "Just a little more time." As she closed her eyes, the sound of her heartbeat filled her ears and slowly she drifted off into slumber.
It was a normal day. I was doing normal things and then I felt it. I felt it slither into my gut like a snake and stretch its way into my throat. It has been a while since I've known this feeling and felt its poison squeeze my heart. A familiar unwanted friend that waits in the shadows of my happiness and comes when the gray clouds above fill with rain. How I despise this feeling and all it offers. Begone devious spirit and make your home elsewhere, for this child suffers enough with the weight of her sins.
It’s been ages since I’ve last written to this blog and to be honest it feels great doing this again. Lately, my mind has decided to work against me and fill me with doubt and fear unimaginable! In most instances, jealously rears its head, or maybe I should say envy? I envy the closeness and affection that people have for each other, I can almost feel the hands of the fabled green eyed monster wrapping around my neck and telling me that I’ll never have a love such as that. It’s quite terrifying. And yet, the urge to be alone still reigns victorious over the need for affection. I don’t know why I’m telling y’all this, but it feels a hell of a lot better talking to strangers than my own family sometimes. Aerek_Of_Augustine
Rest. Return. Conquer. I've taken some time away from myself and placed a pawn in my steps. I placed jester's mask over my face and showed the world a fraud. What a splendid performance, but an encore is not needed for this chapter is done and I have chipped away at the mask. It is time for the Queen to return.
The joy of being invisible is that no one notices when you leave. The pain of being in invisible is that no one cares when you leave. In my years of living, I have sheltered myself away from people. I created a bubble only few can enter, but even then it still pains me to have them close. I feel conflicted about what I want. If that makes any sense? I can, of course, connect with people, I just find it difficult to find someone who cares for me on the same level as I care for them. Have any of you ever dealt with something like this?
It was understandable that she would be wary of approaching him. The young man had been sleeping underneath the hollow tree for almost a century and showed no signs of life until recently. The townsfolk had thought him an angel from heaven and built a stone fence around the tree with an iron plaque that read, "De solidum sed inane et sopitos Angelus plagam Eden." Or in English, The Slumbering Angel Of Hollow Eden. The young man's skin was a transparent pale with green and yellow veins visible, the slow rise and fall of his chest barely noticeable. His body positioned as if resting in a casket, his hair a dark shade with a hint of brown. The lids of his eyes were dark purple, and if you looked closely, you could see a slight movement underneath them. Scientists and Doctors from all over came to study the young man, but when any of them got too close, they'd start to bleed slowly from their eyes and ears before passing out in a puddle of their own sick. So when he had awoken and opened his mouth to speak to the young women kneeling outside his stone cage. The townsfolk had quickly jumped on the opportunity to document history in the making. Violeta Corison was a strange young woman with an odd sense of style, and she had come to visit Eden to take pictures of the town's most prized possession.
He had come home late again. His shirt twisted and stained with alcohol and lipstick, the faint smell of ginger with a hint of vanilla wafted off his body. He had gone to see the OTHER. His wife refused to call her by her name that trash did not deserve a name and would only be known as nothing but the OTHER. Tonight, Deliah was tired. She had fussed, spit, and raged one too many times, tonight she was just tired. Her husband crept into the house, taking off his shoes at the door, sliding his feet against the polished wood floor. Deliah sat on the kitchen counter and waited for him to pass, his silhouette bold against the darkness of the night. "Luke," she said. He froze. Deliah clapped her hands, and the lights turned on. Luke looked as he did most nights, his clothes twisted and skin slick with sweat. "Love-" "Don't," Deliah interrupted. "I'm tired, Luke. I'm exhausted." Luke sighed, reaching for his wife to give her some form of comfort. Deliah pulled away, her hands trembling. "I love you, Luke." She said, " But we can't do this anymore." Luke looked at his wife. She was different. Her round frame had thinned, her hair knotted and damaged. Her clothes too big. She reminded him of a child playing dress-up. "Love, I don't understand?" Luke said, "We can't do what anymore?" Deliah gestured between the two of them, "We can't do this anymore." "Liah-" "I tried, Luke. I did. I fought damn hard for us, and now I don't wanna fight no more."
The 4th of July ended with a fight, and over the past few days, there's been tension. On the 5th of July, there was a small brawl on the streets of my childhood neighborhood. What should have been a few kids fighting, turned into a sport of throwing metal objects, mase, and hitting people with bats? Unfortunately, I was not there and had only watched a video of my sisters and cousins get attacked by a bunch of assholes with bats, who later would showcase their "victory" on social media. Of course, no one comes from war without a few scars. My 13-year-old cousin was hit with a bat by a 40-year-old woman with a pacemaker and loud mouth. I've been trying to deal with the situation calmly and intellectually, but anger always seeps through. I haven't acted on my rage yet. Now, this is part where some of you may agree with me, and others may agree with my Aunt. Yesterday we threw a birthday party in the rain, and I listened to my Aunt tell me about how we should've just stayed out of the situation, and nothing would've happened. How WE should've called the police (somebody did) and how people would perceive us as a bunch of hoodlums with no home training who are always in search of a fight. I. DON'T. GIVE. TWO. FUCKS. My aunt has this holier than thou complex when it comes to my parent's children, in fact, a good portion of my Dad's side of the family are always trying to make it seems like we actively put ourselves in situations just for fun. If the rolls were reversed and her children were attacked on the 4th of July, and her children were accosted at their home. She would actively go out of her way to beat the asses of the people who wronged them. It's always something when it comes down to my parent's children, and quite frankly, I'm sick of all this shit. There's more to this story, but that will have to be for another time.
So, as I said in my last post, I went to church and it was amazing! But something my cousin said is bothering me. On the way from church I got a phone call from my cousin’s sister and my sister, it was brief and nothing important. We sat in silence for a few seconds and I laughed and said, “I love those two idiots.” My cousin responded, “ I love them too. It makes me sad knowing that they won’t be able to go to heaven with me .” (INSERT SCREECHING RECORD STOP) So, at this point I just ramble. Rambling is something I do to divert myself from getting into a passionate debate, but on the inside I kept thinking, ‘How do you know that they won’t get into Heaven? What definite proof do you have that these girls won’t stand at the gates of the kingdom and be granted entry!?!?’ In all honesty, we don’t know who’s going to heaven or not. There are times where I just want to shake my cousin and have her listen. To truly just sit and listen, to hear with both her ears and her heart. She’s stubborn and sometimes gets the big head and God knows I love her more than I do myself, but sometimes I just want her to shut up and listen. And sometimes I wish I could just be a little argumentative instead of bottling it up and letting it fester inside me.
I went to church, I was late and the traffic was something horrible. The rain came down in sheets and my windows fogged over, I was scared. I felt fear. Lately, I haven’t felt much of anything and when I do I feel too much. I spent most of my younger years like this, overly high on emotions and then nothing. How about y’all? You ever just feel ... Hollow?
My cousin and I are close. She’s my Bae and I’m her Boo. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her, it takes a special kind of love deal with her stubbornness and sometimes overwhelming personality. So, enter Diabante, an odd and yet very much educated nurse. He asked me to write about him on my blog, I really don’t know why, but I said yes and here we are now. I don’t remember all of his accomplishments (I’m sure he’ll remind me later and I’ll make sure to take notes), but he’s a awesome dude! I was surprised that my cousin had choose such a weirdo and I’m happy that he is so devoted to her. He has been such an positive impact on her life.
I've recently finished reading an article about Black Childhood. The purpose of the article was to underline how Black children aren't seen as children in times of discipline. Furthermore, the article also touches on how black children are often seen as older than their non-black peers and how certain stereotypes factor into the treatment of young black kids. As I read the article, I found myself thinking back to my childhood. On occasions, my sisters and I were mistaken as the parents of our cousins or our youngest sibling. I also thought back to my time in school and how when I would get in "trouble," the teacher would be quick to state that I have an attitude or that I'm too sassy. In a recent encounter, my sister had been pulled over, and my cousin (14) was in the car. My sister had called me to come outside, and I heard the whole interaction over the phone. The officer believed that my cousin had given him a fake name and was lying about his age. I decided to intervene over the phone, and I told the officer that indeed his name was the one he stated and he was currently a student at the local high school. I was told to calm down. I was calm.
It was only by chance that I saw him kill that young fellow. It was only by chance that I would be standing in the exact spot to see that slender soft spoken boy, wrap his hands around that young fellow’s neck and chuck him over the side of a dirt mound onto a pile of upstanding pipes. As that young fellow was falling, I could’ve sworn I’d seen him smile before being impaled. In that moment, I felt all my weight and first time I wanted so badly to be weightless and drift away.